365 Days of Eternal Bliss
by SWAC4Life
Summary: A year ends and another rolls by. I never asked Chad Dylan Cooper to ask me on a whole year of dates. He says it means nothing. I might as well agree. Response to Bhavana331's 525,600 Minutes of Channy Challenge
1. Summer

**A**_u_t**h**_o_r**'**_s _N**o**_te_**: **Hey! I know what you're thinkin: I have way too many stories already and am really stupid for starting another one. But I had to get this up, or else the contest would close, and I can't help but enter a contest/challenge! It's one of my flaws... =P This is my response to Bhavana331's 525,600 Minutes of Channy Challenge (try saying that ten times fast :D) Enjoy!

**D**_i_s**c**_l_a**i**_m_e**r**_: _I don't own Sonny with a Chance

**W**_a_r**n**_i_n**g**_: _Unedited. And God said, "Let there be errors!" (And there were errors)

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_**3**_**6****5**** D**_a_Y_**s **__O_**f **_E__**t**_E_r_**N**_a__**L **_**B**L_i__**S**__s_

_Installment One: _**S**_U_m_**M**__e_**R**

Part One: **S**_U_m_**M**__e_**R**

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When summertime rolls around, I get a very positive feeling deep inside my chest. Like it's pumping up and down, and the adrenaline that courses through my veins never ceases. I often greet summer with a gargantuan grin plastered on my face every morning.

Back in Wisconsin, my summers were usually filled with unnecessary ice packs resting on my sweaty forehead, cute flip flops adorning my feet, and constant dips into the local lake. My two best friends, Lucy Huntington and Diana Sylvester, and I would take long walks together, strolling past shop windows and basking in the sunlight. I remember buying cookie dough ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, and licking heartily at the frozen treat until it began to drip down the sides of my hands in the heat. The owner of the ice cream stand, Mr. Hawkins, was, incidentally, my good friend, and he would secretly give me shots of whipped cream when no one was looking.

Here in L.A., summers are meant for heading to the beach to bask in the sun and get a tan. Tawni Hart, my blonde, bubbly costar, dragged me along to the mall after rehearsals one day to go swimsuit shopping. She shifted through the most scanty, most revealing, and most showy bikinis, incessantly reminding me that in Los Angeles, bathing suits were meant for looking cute, and not for swimming. I had rolled my eyes at the thought, and simply shrugged her words off.

Now, our form of summer vacation has come at last. I glance around at all the actors of Condor Studios, gathered in posses and doing some form of a celebration dance. I try to shake off my laughter, as the majority of them look like flailing babies in need of a diaper change. The thought just makes me laugh harder.

I have to admit: it's different than Wisconsin. We have about a month and a half (or if we're lucky, two) to do whatever we want, and we take the final month to begin rehearsing and shooting our next season. Then, we have another year of work before summer knocks on our doors again. I can't exactly say that I'm disappointed. It's a plain and evident fact that Wisconsin gave us longer vacations, but when they came to an end, we'd always have to return to school. Admittedly, I'd much rather return to something that I love to do than have an extra month of bliss, but deal with nine months of algebra and calculus. Even the thought makes me shudder.

I see Chad leaning against the while, fully engaged in a heated argument with his show's producer. He's waving his arms, gesturing in some humorously insane fashion, completely ignoring the stares he is getting.

I chuckle silently to myself, and prepare to march over to his secluded location and laugh at him. I am just about to jeer and taunt in his face, as we usually do, when my cell phone moos.

My mooing phone is not a sign of mental retardation, as Chad so elegantly puts it. It enrages me that he would use such a topic as a joke. I love my phone. I love my ringtone. I love the effect it has on Chad whenever he hears it, covering his ears and whining for me to pick up the phone.

Smirking at the thought, I answer the call with a sweet and cheery, "Hello?" I am surprised to hear an urgent voice on the other end. It is my mother, who never calls unless for an emergency. I begin to panic as soon has her words start spilling out.

"You have friends, right, Sonny?" she exclaims on the other end. I groan in annoyance. My mom is still referring to those first three years of elementary school when I was a friendless nobody. She will never forget it.

Chad saunters around the corner and casually leans against the wall in front of me. He smirks, and I realize that I have the conversation on speaker. Blushing furiously, I roll my eyes and turn the speaker setting off.

"Yes, Mom," I whisper into the mouthpiece. "Is something wrong?"

My heart begins to race as my mom's frantic voice speaks again. "Yes, yes, there is. We are supposed to being visiting Aunt Matilda for summer vacation, and…"

I cut her off with a groan. Aunt Matilda is a middle aged, single mother living in some god forsaken town in Alabama. She's one of the few people in my large family that lives outside of Wisconsin. Every two years or so, she'd drag my parents and little siblings and I to her rundown living conditions to have a "family get-together". Every time, it is torture. Her children, Hattie, Marvel, and Owen, are absolute devils, and she, oblivious, worships them. They'd shoot spitballs at us when their mother wasn't paying attention.

"I don't have to go, do I?" I whimper softly into the phone, pouting a pout that she is not able to see. Chad raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yes, unfortunately. Unless you find a friend of yours to take you along for vacation."

I sigh. "Okay, Mom. Bye."

Chad smirks and winks at me as soon as I hang up. "What's up, Sunshine?" he teases, a grin playing on his features. "You look a little… down."

I roll my eyes, avoiding eye contact with him. "It's not like you'd care, but I need to go on vacation with one of my friends, or else I'll have to go with my mom and dad and younger brother and sister to this place in Alabama where my Aunt Matilda lives. It's really horrible and the food is disgusting, and her kids shoot spitballs at Henry and Yvonne when Matilda isn't looking. It's really awful and I don't want to go!" I whined, miraculously managing to let the chain of words stream out of my mouth without taking a breath.

"You can come with me."

I am shocked. I can't get a single word to escape from my mouth. I stand there, silently struggling for what seems like ten minutes, with Chad staring intently at my face. I can't stand it anymore. The exclamation drops out like a bomb.

"_What?_"

He shrugs nonchalantly, glancing around to make sure that nobody is watching. "You can come with me. My family has this beach house, and I usually go down there for summer vacations with my family. This year, they went for a three month, expense paid trip to Europe, and I'm going by myself. And like I said before, you can come with me."

I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to mask my glee. It isn't like the usual Chad Dylan Cooper to do something nice just to be nice. An idea strikes me suddenly, and before I can stop it, a smirk steals its way onto my face.

"Are you asking me on a sort of date?"

Seven words. Seven words is all it takes to get the blonde teen star to blush a deep shade of crimson.

"Well, no, I mean, you can come, but you know, just as friends. We're friends, right? So we get along and you can come, because we're good friends, and that's just what friends do," he stutters, stumbling hastily over his words and reddening more with every syllable.

"I think you've stressed the fact that we're friends enough," I say, smiling. It's true. We've been close friends for the past couple of months. The feud between our two shows has almost vanished, and we get along very nicely.

"I think I can take up your offer."


	2. Vacation

**A**_u_t**h**_o_r**'**_s _N**o**_t_e**: **Yay! I love you all for the amazing reviews :) This hasty and humble and short chapter is for _sonnycentral_, for being completely amazing in every possible way and reviewing and alerting practically every single one of my stories, and for _SparkleInTheSun_, for making me smile with her wonderfully nice review and for being an awesome author herself. I hope this humble dedication will suffice for the awesomeness of the two of you :) And I _will _be making more dedications in later chapter. Maybe even every chapter. Depends on the feedback that I get :)

**D**_i_s**c**_l_a**i**_m_e**r**_: _I don't have the honor of owning A Chance of Sonny, or Sonny with a Chance, for that matter.

**W**_a_r**n**_i_n**g**_: _*Sigh* I'm ashamed. I didn't edit this chapter, either :(

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_**3**_**6****5**** D**_a_Y_**s **__O_**f **_E__**t**_E_r_**N**_a__**L **_**B**L_i__**S**__s_

_Installment One: _**S**_U_m_**M**__e_**R**

Part Two: **V**_a_C_**a**__T_**i**_O_**n**

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A year ago, if I had found out that I would be spending the majority, if not all, of my summer vacation with Chad Dylan Cooper, I would have screamed until my throat was hoarse. I would have grinned and laughed through the hot, salty tears that would be streaming down my face. Chad Dylan Cooper, to me at the time, was the dreamy, handsome heartthrob, my knight in shining armor, and the wind beneath my wings.

Now, thirty minutes after being asked, I am not quite sure what emotion to feel. They are mixed, and no amount of words will explain how I feel. Lost for words, I dial my mom's cell phone number for some valued advice.

"Hello?" The voice that answers my call sounds strangled. She must be dying from the torturous clutch of Aunt Matilda.

"Hey, Mom, it's Sonny," I reply in the cheeriest voice I can muster. "I found someone to go on vacation with. You know that teen drama show, Mackenzie Falls?" I automatically grimace slightly at the title of the show.

"Oh, yes," my mom whispers breathlessly. "The one with that enemy of yours, Chad Cooper, who you hate? And talk so much about?" I can almost see her smirking on the other end. My mom knows of my past obsession with Chad.

"Seriously," I begin, drawing in my breath and pursing my lips tightly together. "He's my friend now. Sort of. And, incidentally, he was the one who is letting me go with him. Oh, the irony!" I add dramatically, bringing the back of my hand to my sweaty forehead. I chuckle slightly.

My mother strains a laugh. She also holds back a squeal. In a matter of seconds, before even contemplating the situation, she blurts out, "You can go, dear," and hangs up on me.

I sigh and crane my neck around to find a peaceful spot in the studio lot. I find, after five minutes of vigorous searching, that there is none. I resort to checking every nook and cranny for my costars. Nico and Grady are leaning against the side of the building, just outside the Mackenzie Falls set, chatting animatedly to three girls dressed in short, jean miniskirts. Tawni is leaning against the side of her pink convertible, no doubt checking her lip gloss in her collapsible mirror. Zora left an hour ago with her mom in a gleaming, black van, driving off to board their cruise to the Bahamas.

Where is Chad?

I find him waiting impatiently for me, a hand placed on his precious, prized car. You can tell that it has meaning in his icy heart, because he's kept it for over half a year. That, by itself, is proof of true devotion, at least for Chad Dylan Cooper.

I flash him a cheery smile and hop into the passenger seat of the shiny black convertible. Groaning loudly to get on my nerves, he takes his time opening the door on the driver's side and takes an even slower time getting in. I tap my foot in annoyance. He knows how to irk me. He knows how to push my buttons. And I hate him for it.

Soon, we are speeding down the interstate at sixty-two miles an hour, heading in the direction of my apartment. I vaguely wonder exactly how Chad knows the way to my house by heart (he doesn't even use the GPS) but quickly shake the thought off. On the road, I try to (awkwardly) strike conversation.

"Where are we going?"

"You're apartment, genius," he retorts sarcastically. I moan inwardly.

"I mean," I begin again, gritting my teeth, "where are you taking me for vacation?"

"My family's beach house in Florida," he mumbles stiffly, shaking his head distractedly.

A beach house in Florida. A beach house in _Florida_. I can't even shake off the escalating feeling of excitement dwelling inside of me. I have always longed to go to some sort of exotic place like Hawaii, or Bermuda. Florida is a close second.

_Vacation isn't going to be so bad_, I think happily to myself. _This could be interesting._ As we zoom down the highway, I even flash a little smile at Chad's side mirror.

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**Y**_A_Y**!**

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